


Latch

by sercotella



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Feels, Assassination Plot(s), Attempted Murder, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Making Out, Mutual Pining, No Dialogue, One Shot, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Rough Kissing, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Sneaking Around, Top Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Violent Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:42:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25906054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sercotella/pseuds/sercotella
Summary: Now I got you in my spaceI won't let go of youGot you shackled in my embraceI'm latching on to you***(Y/N) is a trained assassin allied with Jericho's deviants, and her target for tonight is the RK800 prototype. "Connor", as he is called, could potentially cause detrimental damage to the cause, and though she knows it's a death wish, she agrees to the assignment nonetheless.It's only when she sees the android before her that she hesitates.(Shameless smut!)
Relationships: Connor (Detroit: Become Human) & Reader, Connor (Detroit: Become Human)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 91





	Latch

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This was a spur-of-the-moment work inspired by the impulsiveness and raw feeling from Disclosure's "Latch" music video - it, as well as the song, is really good! I hope you enjoy this and take care of yourselves!

The life of one lone human sympathiser among many renegade androids would seem like an ostracised and lonely life, and yes, sometimes it could be that. Other times however, it was an exhilarating string of missions, all carried out for the bigger picture, for the freedom of the broken, the shackled, the voiceless.

With the androids’ violent, armed approach to human prejudice, public support was hard to come by, but you found it in your heart to understand them from the get-go – this rage was a result of treatment that was obviously unfair and immoral at best. Years of mistreatment, judgement, and straight-up abuse went by unchecked for too long. It was a relief that the deviants only intended to occupy Detroit and not the whole world, because God only knew they could if they wanted to.

One could argue that what you were doing right now was immoral too, but it was simply a means to an end. Humans wouldn’t give in easily, everyone knew that, and androids didn’t deserve to die en-masse for the sake of pretend-peace. Matters needed to be taken into your own hands.

Jericho wasn’t hard to locate once the square symbols were pointed out to you, and though its population wasn’t particularly pleased with your arrival (understatement of the century), they understood they couldn’t pass your set of skills up. After all, when does one have an armed assassin pledging themselves to the cause?

North became your closest ally within the rusted, croaky walls of Jericho – she also handed out covert missions only a human would be able to execute, what with Detroit’s rising anti-android checkpoints and regulations. Her eyebrow would rise in silent admiration and respect when you’d show up time after time again, worse for wear but still alive and more importantly, successful. 

The televisions on the boat, bolted tightly to the walls, roared amidst the growing crowds of incoming androids – news presenters and the general public alike furious with the killing of SWAT’s Captain Allen, FBI’s Special Agent Perkins, and most recently, Rosanna Cartland of KCN News. All voiced ferocious anti-android sentiments, sentiments that they’d no longer voice and would only prove to act as a deterrent for anyone else who’d try. The silenced .22 pistol, fondly dubbed “Maria” for its image of Our Lady of Guadalupe painted on its pearl grip, served obediently from between your skilled, clasped hands.

Humans were such fragile creatures.

Tonight was a special night though, involving your most ambitious objective thus far. North stood at the bow of the boat earlier that afternoon, leaning on the railings heavily, explaining the target of the night and his stay at the Atheneum Suite Hotel in the centre of town. He was allocated one of the largest suites and stayed there each night, going into stasis only for a few hours before awakening again, ready to embark on another investigation with Lieutenant Anderson. The window of opportunity was slim.

It was even slimmer for a human, that much was obvious – Connor exhibited exceptional fighting capabilities in unarmed, melee and weaponised attacks. As an android, he’d also prove to be faster and stronger, each move calculated and executed to near-perfection. His stasis mode was delicate and couldn’t be compared to REM sleep in the slightest.

Meeting North’s weary gaze, you knew what that meant – it was a death sentence, even for someone of your talents. At the end of the day though, the mission is all that mattered – it’d really solidify a grand victory against humankind and prove to be a big middle finger to CyberLife. If Jericho was really going to infiltrate android camps and release its prisoners, they needed to get rid of one of greatest threats.

Checking into the Atheneum was easy – the suspected culprit of recent murders was assumed to be most certainly an android, so a temperature check and some batting of heavy, mascara-covered eyelashes did the trick. 

With the key-card in hand, you head up the elevator with a small smirk dancing at the corner of your crimson lips – you’d be damned if you didn’t enjoy some of the suite’s luxuries while waiting for your android counterpart to arrive.

This was going to be extremely dangerous, because it’s the closest you’d be getting to an opponent in a long time – Maria’s scope generally allowed for ranged attacks that could be done from a reasonable distance. Security for Connor has been prioritised now more than ever though, therefore all surrounding areas have been either sealed off or monitored. God knows why though, the man’s a walking battalion himself.

Either way, no ranged attacks for you. This needed to be up, close and personal.

At 11 pm as planned, you order room service with the most expensive bottle of champagne and strawberries with chocolate sauce. The android bellboy enters with a draped cart of requested goodies and you dig into the strawberries with visible joy. Your hand rises into the air expectantly and with a sigh, the bellboy retrieves a spare key-card to Connor’s suite, following North’s orders precisely. He leaves the loaded cart behind and bows on his way out.

The champagne proves to be a bit difficult to open. You’d be sure to remember this if the hotel ever asked for a TripAdvisor review.

Liquid courage, they call it – you down two generous glasses of the bubbly goodness, enough to still keep your wits about you but still ease some nerves. Now it was all about killing time, since Connor’s stasis was due to begin roughly at 1 am, according to the hotel staff that monitored his movements from check-in to check-out. He worked like a clockwork apparently.

Next was the humongous jacuzzi nestled comfortably in the corner of your bathroom – you sink into the jets with a pleased sigh and enjoy the clary sage soaks provided by the hotel. The air smells refreshing and coniferous, putting your mind at ease. Any rising anxiety that could possibly arise now was promptly shoved down to whence it came. There was no room for error and no room for fear, not today. 

If he couldn’t see or hear it, he’d certainly smell it out.

The bedside clock eventually displays a confident 1:04 am and your suitcase unlatches to reveal Maria in her metallic flesh, surrounded by padded foam. She’s beautiful in the moonlight in particular – covered with ivy and floral details, she has a nickel finish and a golden trigger. You make sure she’s fully loaded and tucked into the back of your palazzo pants before looking over yourself in the mirror. It’d only make sense to look somewhat presentable for the occasion.

Was the shirt too revealing? The v-shaped deep cut at the front leaves little to the imagination but it is long-sleeved and white, signalling purity and innocence – a little bit of irony never hurt anyone. Your sovereign 9ct golden coin necklace hangs heavily around your neck, right above the curve of your breasts, and your inhale deeply to see it rise in your reflection.

It was go-time.

Shoes often proved loud and burdensome in covert missions like these, so they were promptly discarded before you even left your suite. Socks masked some of the noise however so they stayed on as you gently close the door behind you and begin tiptoeing across the hall. Maria feels cold against the small of your tense back.

As if in slow-motion, the spare key-card to Connor’s room is lifted to the suite’s handle and makes a dreaded, soft “beep” sound before unlocking the door. Your face scrunches up uncomfortably – any noise, no matter how low in decibels, could be deadly here. Pushing the door open with one hand, you take a few slow, careful steps across the polished wooden floor, the other hand at your back, ready to unleash Maria in a split second if needed be.

You’ve studied the floor plans beforehand and they showed the overall layout of the room accurately, at least from what you can make out in the dark – the area near the door is slim but soon opens up to reveal a bountiful space filled with mahogany furniture illuminated by nearby wide windows, and a beautiful king-sized bed in the middle, upon which lay the target of tonight’s ministrations.

Making your way across the room slowly, you eventually find yourself standing right across from him – he’s sitting up on the bed with arms folded neatly across his lap, his head rolled back slightly against the bed’s frame. His LED spins with a demure blue glow and his clothing is unsurprisingly impeccable. Maria rests comfortably in your hands, as she always did, and you raise her into the air, barrel pointed right between the android’s eyes.

That was it, then – you had a clear line of sight and an unmoving target ready for killing. And yet the hesitation rises, not because of the possible loss of life, but because of his overall appearance, which, admittedly, is something to stare at. The fuckers at CyberLife evidently put very good care into Connor’s design, even going as far as to make him downright beautiful, no doubt for the purpose of swaying gullible women just as you’d swayed gullible men to do your own bidding in the past. 

Is this what was happening now? Were you becoming a gullible, little teenager with stars in her eyes and heat between her thighs? Ridiculous.

You take three silent steps forward until your legs touch the frame of the massive bed and spare a few more moments to shamelessly ogle the man before you. His features are sharp yet soft – he has a wide sloped forehead typical in the male variety, elongated cheekbones that meet with a strong stubbled jaw and a defined nose that matches his face so well. His eyes are closed, which is a right darn shame, and his lips part slightly to let out soft exhales as if he was really sleeping. Your brow furrows for a moment – it was too reminiscent of actual sleep. Suspiciously so.

Before you even have time to react, his eyes snap wide open and you only have a slip second to register his sharp, brown eyes that bring childhood hot cocoa to memory before he lunges forward. He grabs your outstretched hands harshly and angles them away to his right as you fire, only succeeding in shooting the nearby pillow. The sheer weight of his incoming body works to throw you onto the ground and you struggle underneath him, grasping onto Maria for dear life.

It only took a moment to hesitate, to get distracted. And now this distraction would clearly be your undoing.

He moves swiftly and dangerously, trapping you underneath him and punching your right wrist as you exclaim in pain and momentarily loosen your grin on the silenced pistol. This moment would be all that he’d need so you too act quickly and slide the gun away towards the door with the hope that he’d rise up to fetch it, but he doesn’t – he stills, and then slowly turns his head back towards you. His gaze is cold and calculating as he scans the woman before him. Your arms lie on your sides and you don’t dare move as the seconds drag on rigidly. 

He knows now – he knows you’re the killer, the silent assassin working on behalf of deviants. He can’t let you go, and you can’t let him go with this knowledge either. One of you will have to pay with eternal silence.

He had the upper hand right now – if he wanted, he could squeeze his hands around your throat, smother you with a pillow, smash your head against the nearby tabletop, or even rip your fragile little heart right out from in-between your ribcage. But at the end of the day, he was a man, right? And surely, if he was built with the purpose of eventually swaying women to accomplish his mission, he’d be built to go all the way to do so? Perhaps there was a way to distract him.

Your eyes never leave his, desperate to hold that hardened gaze as you give an experimental thrust of your hips ever-so-slightly upwards – the movement is so subtle that it’d barely be visible but with your bodies glued together, he can very much feel it. His indifferent expression doesn’t change but his eyebrows do furrow down for a moment and so you try again, very slowly spreading your legs on either side of him in the meantime. He lets out a suffocated, short grumble from the back of his throat and surprisingly lifts his upper body to put a heavier pressure on your hips with his own. His hands are planted firmly on the floor, your head resting in-between, and your breath hitches in your throat.

You’re afraid to move any limb within his peripheral vision, so instead you let your lower half do the work – your legs rise noiselessly upwards, not quite wrapping around his back but just about pressing on each side of his torso. For a man, this is obvious – it’s an open invitation. 

But he wasn’t really a man, was he? But then, why was he letting this happen?

Suddenly it seems as if he’s tipping over to the side, but no, he just shifts slightly to the left – his right hand reaches behind him to land on your calf, exposed due to the loose trousers that slithered down to your thigh. You gasp without being able to help yourself because his hand is large and startingly warm as it leisurely travels downwards, grazing past your knee and eventually reaching the back of your thigh. He lingers there, feeling the soft flesh underneath his fingertips and gives it a gradual squeeze, his eyes watching you breathe unevenly beneath him.

Unwilling to give him total control, you hike your other leg right over his back and press him down as if his hips weren’t already completely crushed over yours. You take a deep breath and arch your back upwards, letting him get a good look at the valley of your breasts that the shirt does little to hide, and it’s then that his sight finally shifts downwards to look. You continue taking a few elongated breaths, letting him watch your chest rise and fall, until his face finally lowers down and his nose grazes along your revealed skin.

You can feel his hot lips soon after and it feels as if you’re on fire. He plants a few experimental kisses right beneath your collarbone but eventually travels downwards, particularly focusing on the side of your left breast, right above your hammering heart. Moving carefully, your left hand makes its way upwards to land on the back of his neck, tenderly grazing the hair there – it’s thick and soft and you’d just want to keep running your hands through them over and over. He allows himself a small bite at your skin then and you moan softly against your better judgement.

His right hand moves then, leaving your leg to your momentary disappointment before you see both of his hands in action, working at the hem of your trousers, pulling gently down. You raise your hips and allow him to take both the trousers and the lacy underwear all in one go, and once he discards them to the side and turns back to you, you grasp his tie and pull him down to press your open mouth onto his. 

It’s surprising how good he is at this, or perhaps he’s just a very quick learner – you focus on his top lip as he pays special attention to your bottom one, sucking and biting at it, angling his head to deepen the kiss. He barely breaks apart so you gasp for oxygen at any smallest chance you get, getting a bit woozy whenever your lips leave his for just an instant before he goes in again. His hands hold your cheeks to pull you closer and the kisses become sloppier and wetter as you allow yourself to audibly moan into them. 

You let out a startled yelp as Connor’s strong hands grasp your thighs roughly and hoist your body upwards with him, carrying you over to the bed, passing by the forgotten Maria without even sparing her a glance. He throws you down onto the feathered bedsheets and positions himself right between your legs again, taking off his jacket and loosening his tie in the process. This action alone, the undoing of his crisp and clean appearance, is extremely hot on its own and you pull him down before he gets the chance to completely remove his tie, ripping it apart for him and working your way through the buttons of his shirt as he leans down to capture your lips once more.

His chocolate hair is dishevelled as he moves to peer down at you with half-lidden eyes, darkened and focused with pure, unbridled desire. Your eyes dart downwards once the final button is undone and his shirt hangs open to expose his chest, flat and covered in freckles, aflame under your fingertips. Connor doesn’t make much noise overall but this time he sighs as if in content, allowing himself to close his eyes briefly and enjoy your hands trailing downwards, making eager work of eventually unbuckling his belt. 

Once this bothersome item is thrown aside, he pulls the corner of your shirt upwards and you get the hint, rising from the bed to take it off completely. His fingers are quick when you lie back down, finding their way to your back and unhooking your bra before you can even respond, and when that useless item is thrown away, the skin-to-skin contact is absolutely exhilarating – it’s hot, soft and intoxicating as his chest presses onto your heaving breasts and his arms snake around your back to pull you in even closer. One of his hands rests in-between your shoulder blades and the other cradles the back of your neck tenderly as your legs wrap around him. There’s just not enough kisses that you can give him, apparently, because he latches his lips onto yours like a lost sailor thirsting for water.

To your surprise, there is a prominent bulge protruding from Connor’s trousers, prodding impatiently at the side of your warm thigh. Your hands make their way in-between your glued bodies and begin unbuttoning his pants, eager to witness all of him, and it’s only then that you feel the radiating heat from between your own legs.

The line you two were threading was razor-thin and electrifying – no one could really tell how much of this was genuine yearning and how much was a mere façade implemented to lower the opponent’s guard. Any sudden movement could be vicious and final, so even amidst the pleasure, it was important to stay alert. 

Easier said than done though. 

How was one meant to focus when Connor’s pants and boxers begin to slide down in one go, too slowly for your liking, and his lips on yours feel so damn good? His hand on your back presses steadily inwards, ensuring that your body remains arched towards him and the only thing between you two is the sovereign coin necklace still hanging around your neck, absorbing the nearby body heat. His tongue slips past yours time and time again, hot and eager to explore, and you mewl into the kiss without hesitation. 

His bulge twitches at the sound and you allow yourself to moan aloud, enjoying the man’s reaction. Your toes constantly curl in anticipation, your body almost fidgeting with need, and you lace your fingers in-between Connor’s thick hair to tug his head backwards. He groans as you do so and is faced with the ceiling as you lean up to place hot kisses along his jawline and neck, kisses that turn to visible love bites around his collarbone. If out of the two of you, he remains alive (which is the most-likely scenario), at least the bites could be easily concealed.

Whoever said you weren’t considerate?

You almost choke on air and your hands fly to grasp onto Connor’s shoulders for support when you feel him unexpectedly slipping inside of you, taking the opportunity while you’re distracted. He sinks himself fully down onto you and pushes further inside with relative ease and it’s then that you realise how wet you’ve been all along. His head rests in the crook of your neck and his breath is shallow against your perspiring skin as he gives you a few moments to adjust, though you itch for him to just move already. Your legs wrap around him and you shift with a whimper, taken aback by the sheer size of him.

With the heat of your limbs wrapped around him, Connor begins setting a slow, experimental pace that has you moaning softly into the night. He feels good, all of him – his body pressed against yours, his hands grasping onto you as if not to let go, the muscles of his back rolling softly underneath your hands. Between the expansive walls of the suite, the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoes amidst moans and groans alike, and it’s somehow flattering to hear Connor’s audible pleasure.

Against better judgement you close your eyes and roll your head back, enjoying every moment of this, and you barely even notice when Connor’s name slips from in-between your hazy, pleased cries. He stills at that and lifts his head to look down at you with an unreadable expression, but you only press your ankles into his back, urging him to continue. So far neither of you spoke a word to one another, not even an introduction, but you already knew of him and he’s probably accessed all available files on you by now. Chit-chat was futile.

And so he continues, withdrawing himself almost completely before pushing back in, again and again, faster this time, and the walls around him tighten occasionally in response. Your orgasm was fast approaching and you breathe as if drowning, gasping for air and digging your nails into the muscles of his back. He bends down to spread wanton kisses over your chest and eventually moves upwards to capture your lips once again, bruising them so deliciously. It’s obvious that he likes all the noises you make because he grinds his hips upwards over your swollen bundle of nerves every time you cry out his name, and so you continue, shamelessly chanting “Connor” over and over with little care of who might hear.

A familiar coil begins to tense in the depths of your belly and you drop your hands to desperately cling to the bedsheets below you. Connor steals a glance at the sight below him – parted lips, closed eyes, clasped fists, rigid nipples, damp skin, it’s all so fascinating. For you, the stimulation proves too much and your legs begin to tremble against his back as you let go, tightening around Connor’s shaft. He too gives a few powerful thrusts before stilling within you not long after with a delightful shudder. 

It takes longer for you to gather your bearings than for him, though he makes no attempts at moving away even as his artificial semen begins to drip gently onto the bed below him. Your eyes flutter open eventually, slowly, your white-knuckled grip on the sheets loosening and your whole body finally relaxing onto the bed as you face Connor’s dark, cunning eyes for possibly the final time. He hovers above you, eyebrows scrunched up in evident exhaustion, his expression unexpectedly human. A layer of sweat covers his skin and reflects off the moonlight pouring in through the adjacent window, only serving to make him even lovelier to look at. 

Neither person was willing to move away, to separate, to disturb the temporary peace that befell the suite. This embrace of warm, tangled bodies felt good, felt right, especially in comparison to the violent, saddening finale that it’d have to inevitably end with. Your hands rise to wrap around Connor’s neck and you can’t help but pull him in for one last kiss, a kiss that he returns with warmth.

And for a moment, everything was fine.


End file.
